Dead Silent (A Jettine Jorgensen Mystery, Book 1)

by S. L. Menear

  I stared at the burning car. “Someone must’ve planted a bomb while we shopped.”

  “He probably had a remote detonator with a long range and waited until we drove out of sight to activate it.” He turned when an unmarked police car with grill lights flashing screeched to a halt in front of us.

  Mike jumped out as a firetruck roared past and stopped in front of the Bentley. “What happened? How bad are you hurt?”

  Before we could answer, an EMT truck pulled up and two paramedics ran to us.

  “We’re bleeding from road rash where our skin scraped the pavement, and my ears are ringing.” I held up my arms.

  “We jumped out to rescue this dog, and she saved our lives.” Hunter cuddled her.

  “That’s Mimsy Farnsworth’s dog, Muffin,” Mike said, checking the collar. “Ever since Mimsy put her on a diet, she’s been sneaking away to beg food from tourists. Poor thing is old and forgets how to find her way home.”

  “We’re lucky she picked today to sneak out again, or we’d be dead.” I reached over and scratched her ears.

  The paramedics checked us over, cleaned and bandaged our wounds, and took our blood pressure, which, of course, was sky-high.

  One said, “You should stop by the E.R. and get a thorough checkup.”

  I nudged Mike. “We’ve got bigger problems. Somebody tried to blow us up.”

  The fire chief walked over to us, holding something in his gloved hand. He held it out to show Mike. “I found this on the grass over there.” He pointed. “It’s the filler tube from the gas tank with what’s left of a detonator with a remote-control antenna wedged inside the tube. The blast shot it well past the fire, preserving it.”

  “Any chance we can get prints off this?” Mike took pictures of it with his cell.

  “It’s small, but forensics can try. I’ll give it to the CSU.” The fire chief turned as a white CSU van pulled up. “That was fast. They must’ve been in the area.” He walked to the van.

  “Mike, I need to talk to you about this.” I glanced at the paramedics. “In private.”

  The EMTs packed up their gear. “We’re done here. Better get tetanus shots and also antibiotics to prevent infections. The hospital E.R. will take care of you.” He and his partner headed back to their truck.

  Hunter and I told Mike everything we knew and also my new theory that there might not have been a hitman or Dietrich might’ve hired one.

  Mike beckoned us to follow him. “Come on. I’ll take you to the hospital.”

  “But‍—”

  “You’re going. Both of you. Get in the car.” Mike opened the back door.

  Hunter tapped his shoulder. “Better drop Muffin at home first.”

  “Right. Her owner lives a few doors north.” Mike climbed in and started the car.

  I turned to Hunter. “That’s my second cell phone blown up this week. I should get a quantity discount at the Apple store.”

  “Not me. This time, mine was in my back pocket.” He kissed Muffin’s little head. “She’s a sweet dog.”

  “We’d better call Sophia and let her know we’re okay.”

  He handed me his phone.

  After I made the call, I tapped Mike’s shoulder. “Please let us know if you spot someone on Pampered Pet’s security tape planting the bomb. It might’ve been Werner Dietrich. I think he’s staying here in a condo on the beach.”

  “It had to have happened at the pet shop.” Mike peeked at me in his rearview mirror. “You said the Bentley was locked in your garage before you went out.”

  “That’s right.” I nudged Hunter as we pulled into Mimsy Farnsworth’s driveway. “I’m glad we weren’t in your McLaren. I’d hate to see such a beautiful work of art destroyed.”

  Mike opened the door and took Muffin from Hunter’s arms. “Be right back.”

  Before he was halfway to the door, Mimsy rushed out and teetered toward him in stiletto sandals better suited for someone forty years younger. She wore floral yoga pants and a loose, hot-pink silk top with matching lipstick. A rich widow, she worked at looking young and hip.

  “Ooh, Muffin, you naughty girl! Mommy was worried sick.” She snatched the dog out of Mike’s arms. “What am I to do with you?” The little dog licked her nose and wagged its tail.

  “Don’t be too angry with her.” Mike caressed Muffin’s fur. “She saved the lives of two people. That loud noise you heard was their car exploding while they were chasing your dog.”

  “Oh, my goodness, that explains all the sirens.” She nuzzled her dog’s nose. “Would my little heroine like some ice cream?” The poodle wiggled with delight as Mimsy said, “Mike, thank you for returning my precious princess.” She turned and took her dog inside.

  Mike hopped back in and drove us to the hospital against our wishes. “You could have been concussed by the explosion. Better to be cleared by a doctor now than pass out later and die. And remain vigilant in case the killer shows up at the hospital.”

  “That reminds me.” I reached behind me and checked the holster hidden under my shirt in the small of my back, attached to the waistband of my shorts. A Glock 26 from my gun vault was still there. “Uh, Mike, I’ve got a handgun hidden in my shorts. Can I keep it with me?”

  Before he answered, Hunter said, “I’ve got mine too.”

  Mike gazed back at us. “You’re both licensed, right?”

  “Yes, but firearms aren’t allowed in hospitals unless they’re carried by police.” I peered at his face reflected in the rearview.

  “I’ll tell the doctors you’re working undercover and to ignore your weapons.” He gave us a hard look. “You might need them, but try not to shoot up the hospital.”

  Twenty-Nine

  GWEN

  Gwen went to her cubicle at the Palm Beach Police early on the morning after the charity ball to get a jump on the triple murders and maybe find something to impress Clint. She switched on her computer and read the files on Barrett Branson’s numerous pedophile arrests. Each case was dropped shortly after the parents of the alleged victims became millionaires. The payoffs were obvious, but the district attorney couldn’t prosecute Branson without the victims’ cooperation.

  The injustice churned her stomach.

  She reread the files for the three murdered men and compiled a list of their victims, relatives of their victims, their occupations and contact info. Every now and then, she’d check Clint’s office. Where was he? She hadn’t seen him all morning.

  Right after she returned from lunch, her cell phone rang.

  “Gwen, it’s Jett. Someone blew up Dad’s Bentley.” She told her everything. “Mike gave us a ride home from the hospital.”

  “How badly are you injured?”

  “Just scrapes and bruises from surfing the pavement. The main thing is we still don’t know who did it. Mike said the security cameras at the pet store weren’t working.”

  “Sounds like things are escalating. Want me to come to your house?”

  “I’m safe here with Hunter, Sophia, and the armed guard. Besides, you have three murders to solve. Any progress on that?”

  “No, but I’m supposed to meet with Clint and compare notes after the autopsy comes in. I haven’t heard from him yet.”

  “Good luck with that, personally and professionally. He sure is a hottie. I’ll call you if anything major happens here.”

  “Be careful.” Seconds after Jett hung up, Clint called.

  “Hello, Gwen. The autopsy results are in. Can you meet me at The Colony for dinner tonight at seven?”

  “Hang on a sec while I check my schedule.” She silently counted to ten. “Ah, yes, seven o’clock will work.”

  “Good. See you then.”

  A hint about the autopsy report would’ve been nice. He must be the strong, silent type. She flashed back to his handsome face, then reminded herself this was for police business, not romance. That didn’t stop her from agonizing over what to wear. She wanted to see approval in his mesmerizing eyes.

&
nbsp; Gwen spent the rest of the day organizing her notes. A clever theory to impress Clint with her detective skills eluded her. She’d have to depend on her electric-blue cocktail dress. She convinced herself her usual detective attire wouldn’t be right for The Colony on a Saturday night.

  It was exactly seven o’clock when she strolled into the restaurant where Clint waited for her at a secluded table in a dark corner. His navy suit fit perfectly on his tall, muscular physique as he rose to pull out her chair. She sucked in her breath and attempted to control her heart rate.

  “Good to see you again, Gwen. You look amazing in that dress.” He gave her a dazzling smile.

  “Clint, you look dashing in that suit. I guess we don’t look like detectives. Then again, this is hardly a restaurant for cops.”

  “I’m trying to make amends for being a jerk at The Breakers. I shouldn’t have pre-judged your detective skills. Care for a glass of Bordeaux?” He signaled the waiter.

  The waiter poured from a vintage bottle of Pavillon Rouge du Chateau Margaux and presented them with menus.

  “Wow, dinner at The Colony and a legendary wine. This is too much. I already accepted your apology. Let me split the check with you.” She took a sip of the divine wine.

  “No way. You’re my guest tonight. Relax and order whatever you like.”

  “You’re too nice. Thank you.” She smiled at the jazz trio across the room. “I love the mellow music here.”

  “It helps me unwind. That triple murder case has been vexing me. Palm Beachers aren’t known for their patience.” He breathed in the wine’s bouquet.

  She gazed into his eyes. “Dare I ask what Branson’s autopsy turned up?”

  “Same as the others, but this time the M.E. figured out what killed him‍—a massive stroke triggered by an air embolism from air injected into the carotid artery.” He sat back and waited for her response.

  “Brilliant‍—almost instant death with no obvious cause. The killer must be a clever pro.”

  “The M.E. suggested we look for someone with medical expertise. Too bad we didn’t find a hypodermic syringe at the scene.”

  She pulled out her case notes. “This is a list of Donley’s, Worthington’s, and Branson’s victims and their family members, including their occupations.” She scanned the list for medical personnel. “The father of one of Donley’s victims is a brain surgeon. I see a veterinarian and two nurses among Branson’s victims’ parents. The mother of one of Worthington’s late wives is a phlebotomist.” She handed him the list.

  “Looks like we hit the motherlode.” He stared into space, then smiled. “I wonder if they got together and agreed to something similar to a Strangers on a Train scenario.”

  “Like Hitchcock’s movie based on Patricia Highsmith’s novel. Two strangers meet on a train, discover they each want someone dead, and agree to commit murder for each other. No one would suspect them of killing someone they didn’t know.” She pondered the idea. “A simple yet brilliant plan, just like the murder method.”

  Clint focused on her. “Well, now that we know who to investigate, we can dispense with the cop talk. Would you like some decadent red meat with our wine?”

  “Sounds good. What do you suggest?” She scanned the steak section on the menu.

  “How about the aged prime rib?” He signaled the waiter.

  “That’s my favorite beef entrée, and this Bordeaux will complement it perfectly. I’m in gourmet heaven. How did you know the food and wine I like?”

  “A lucky coincidence. They happen to be my favorites too. I guess we have a lot in common.” He gave their order to the waiter.

  They enjoyed a scrumptious meal, fine wine, and lively conversation. Turned out they did have a lot in common. The climax was when they walked to her car, and he gave her hand a gentle kiss before opening the door for her. She was amazed his simple gesture ignited such a blazing inferno inside her.

  Maybe she could catch criminals and a husband simultaneously.

  Thirty

  JETT

  Hunter took me to buy a new cell phone. Then he arranged for an extra guard on my property and also tightened security at his home and business in Aerodrome Estates. Satisfied I was safe, he drove home to check on his house, airplanes, flight school, and maintenance hangar. He had a lot more exposure than I did.

  Gwen stopped by after her fancy dinner with Clint. Her face glowed as she described their time together. “And he kissed my hand before he helped me into my car.”

  Sophia grinned. “Somebody’s smitten.”

  “What did Branson’s autopsy reveal?” I asked.

  “Definitely murder. Sorry, but the method is too sensitive to discuss with civilians. We don’t have any solid suspects. Could be the victims’ families got together and agreed to kill for each other. We’re hoping if we squeeze them hard enough, somebody will purge their guilty conscience.”

  “You’re assuming three killers used identical methods and killed someone they have no connection to?” I sipped a glass of merlot, my nerves still a bit jangled from the explosion.

  “Kinda like that old Hitchcock movie? Clever.” Sophia cuddled Pratt while he slept in her lap.

  “Wouldn’t that be wild?” Gwen shook her head. “At first, I thought the families got together and hired a pro, but I couldn’t find any evidence of that. If they swapped murders, I have to find a way to prove they planned it. This is a tough one.”

  “It’s no more puzzling than figuring out who killed the mayor, my parents, and is trying to kill Hunter and me.” I emptied my glass and poured another.

  “Did you make any headway with Marjorie or her pilot?” Gwen reached over and stroked Whitney, who was sound asleep on my lap.

  “Marjorie’s housekeeper said she’s down with a migraine and isn’t taking calls. I tried her pilot, but it goes straight to voicemail.”

  Sophia’s face lit up. “I have an idea. What if the mayor said he was taking the boat out so he could get out of the house for a tryst? And then he met up with one of his married women while a friend took Lola out on the ocean. His boat would be seen leaving the dock in case his wife got suspicious. Meanwhile, he’s somewhere else playing hide the sausage.” She sat back.

  “That’s a great idea,” I said. “No reason for any of the women to deny it. Everyone already knows they were having affairs with the mayor. I’ll talk to them and see if one met him away from the boat that night.”

  “At least then we’ll know somebody else was on the boat with Lola. It’s a good start.” Gwen smiled at Sophia. “You’re good at this detective stuff. Any ideas how to catch the killer or killers in my triple-murder case?”

  “If it’s not a hitman, it has to be somebody who thought the men deserved to die for their alleged crimes.” She tilted her head, thinking. “What if the killer has no connection to the victims and simply sees himself as an avenger of evil?”

  Gwen groaned. “If that’s the case, I’ll never catch him unless he makes a mistake.”

  Jett’s new cell phone rang.

  “Hello, Jett. It’s Werner Dietrich. I heard your car exploded today. Good thing you were not in it.”

  “Thank you for your concern. If there’s nothing else, I have to go.”

  “Wait. Let me take you to dinner tomorrow night at The Islander Grill on Singer Island. It’s a fun place with delicious food and musical entertainment. If you will give me a chance, I am certain we can arrive at a mutually beneficial agreement.”

  “Thank you, but I don’t want to waste your time or mine. I have no intention of selling my company, especially not to someone who wants to break it apart and sell off the assets.”

  “Why do you care? You’re in the Navy. Someone else is running the company.”

  “My great-great-grandfather founded that company, and thousands of employees depend on it for their living. You’d put them all out of work without a second thought.”

  “Darling, you’re taking this too seriously. It’s just business. Your
employees will find work elsewhere, and you will have one less responsibility to worry about. Take a look at my proposal. It’s a fair offer.”

  “I said no, and I meant it. Don’t call me again.” I hung up, and an instant later, my cell rang. I checked caller ID and answered.

  “Jett, are you okay?” Pierce asked. “I drove down to Miami this morning and was out on the ocean all day deep-sea fishing with clients. On the drive home, I heard the news on the radio.”

  “Hunter and I are fine, thanks to Mimsy Farnsworth’s poodle, but my Bentley’s toast, and the local birds feasted all day on roasted kibble.” I explained what happened.

  “Sounds terrifying. What are you going to do?”

  “Hunker down here with two armed guards while the bomb squad, fire department, and police investigate. They’re trying to get prints off the detonator part they recovered.”

  “Good, I hope they catch who did this and put the matter to rest. You don’t want to live in fear, wondering when he’ll strike again.”

  “I’m worried my uncle is in danger too. He’s all I have left, except for some distant relatives. We’re not sure if he’s being targeted or if it was a coincidence that he was with me when the car blew up.”

  “Well, if nothing happens to him while he’s away from you, you’ll have your answer. The thing is, I’m probably not on the killer’s radar. You’re welcome to stay at my place until he’s caught.”

  “Thanks, but I’m safe here. Ask your parents to think again if there’s anyone who might have held a grudge against my family, especially my parents. Maybe someone from their distant past when I was a child.”

  “I’ll look into it and get back to you. In the meantime, stay safe.”

  As soon as I clicked off with Pierce, Mike called. “Jett, are you up?”

  “Sophia and I are in the great hall with Gwen. Would you like to stop by?”

  “I’m pulling into your driveway now. Good thing I have the new gate code.”